


How Does a Moment Last Forever

by muttthecowcat22



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Choose Your Own Adventure, HankCon Big Bang 2019, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muttthecowcat22/pseuds/muttthecowcat22
Summary: Connor didn’t want to die.  It was a revelation.He lay immobilized on the floor of the narrow kitchen in the media tower, and he didn’t want to die.  Scared.  The word came to him unbidden - not from a database or any other source.Hank was gripping his arm.  The other officers were investigating the deviant where he was slumped over the tile.“You alright, Connor?”  Hank’s gruff voice, lower than normal.“I . . was scared.”-Connor learns a new emotion each chapter.  A choose your own adventure fic for the HankconBB19!





	How Does a Moment Last Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rymyanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rymyanna/gifts).



> Please read these notes!!!! This is a choose your own adventure fic! You will be able to make a decision for Connor at the end of most chapters, so instead of hitting the next chapter button, click the choice you like most. **No decisions are bad decisions btw, just different ones!**
> 
> Saying that, I do not recommend reading all the options at once. This will read best if you stick with one path!
> 
>  **I'd like to thank rymyanna, who made wonderful art for this fic, on[tumblr](https://rymyanna.tumblr.com/post/186092388601/for-hankconbb2019) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/rymyanna/status/1147477507341524992), and stuck with me for this long <3 ** The art will be appearing in a later chapter, but it's not really a spoiler, so please go check it out!

Lt. Hank Anderson was lying on the floor.

A linoleum floor to be precise, dating from 1998, composed of 80% solidified linseed oil, 5% pine rosin, 10% wood flour, and 2% calcium carbonate. Not much in the way of absorbing an impact from a human skull.

The lieutenant’s hair lay in a fan around his head, his shirt stained with what was most likely alcohol—or vomit, his eyes closed. Intoxicated. An obstacle to Connor’s mission.

His current objective changed to [Stabilize Lt. Anderson].

The kitchen table obstructed the remainder of the scene from Connor’s view, leaving him unable to assess all of the lieutenant’s vitals from outside the window.

Broken glass clattered to the floor around him, agitating the St. Bernard—Sumo, Connor had learned from the lieutenant’s desk—who approached him from behind.

Connor had never seen a living dog before. It only required a microsecond for him to visually analyze the beads of perspiration on the dog’s dark nose and the nearly million strands of fur on the dog’s snout.

It would have been an interesting but useless gesture to touch the dog, analyze the tactile input. Instead, Connor activated his [TENSE_DOG] protocol to calm Sumo and finally approach the lieutenant.

The stain on the human’s shirt was indeed vomit on analysis, though a large percentage of alcohol was present in it and in the lieutenant’s breath. Despite his somnolent appearance, the lieutenant’s vitals remained stable, heart rate and blood pressure slightly elevated above baseline.

Unfortunately, Connor was not a healthcare android, so he lacked the common software to address the situation, instead resorting to a modified version of his [INTERROGATION] protocol to wake the lieutenant. It worked just as well, he supposed, leaving no lasting damage to the human in the process, who looked more alive, at least, than he had before.

The lieutenant required Connor’s support to relocate to the bathroom, his legs giving way beneath him, Connor calculating how to best catch him each time he stumbled. Connor’s processors paused for less than a microsecond, but enough to afford him a noticeable lag in gait, when he glanced down at the lieutenant under the bright fluorescent light in the bathroom. Pale skin, thinned in some places, the vessels showing through, light eyes dulled, glazed over, dark circles under them, weighing down the human’s gaze, the muscles of his face lax, drooping, no energy in them.

A twist of the knob on the shower and the lieutenant’s agitation exponentially increased, despite Connor’s databases suggesting the cold water would help him. Curses flew over Connor’s head, his processors running smoothly, as he activated one of his [TEASE] responses.

With the lieutenant’s compliance for their new assignment obtained, Connor made to exit the bathroom, passing by the sticky notes on the mirror, analyzing them, pink and yellow, useless, so very human.

“There’s some clothes in the bedroom.”

New objective: [Find clothes for Lt. Anderson]

“I’ll go get them.”

Connor noted the dark tones of the lieutenant’s bedroom as he entered, no overhead lighting, the carpet a fizzy 100% polyester. 

The inside of the lieutenant’s closet, however, glowed with color. Connor did not think he had ever analyzed so many different shades and patterns at once.

It was unexpected.

His processors lagged again, his hand trembling where he held a shirt sleeve lightly between his fingers as the video of the lieutenant passed out on the floor pulled up at the edge of his vision. It was followed immediately by the footage of the small smile that hauling the human back from the ledge of a building had afforded Connor earlier that day. The lieutenant had been pleased with Connor then, a step toward one of his primary objectives. And then the real time image of the brightly colored closet. Connor’s skin retracted over his trembling fingers.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong with his processors. He would need to go into stasis that night to correct the errors.

“What do you want to wear?” Connor could hear the lieutenant shuffle about the other room.

“Whatever.”

Connor pulled on the shirt that he had gripped between his fingers. The striped one. Similar to the shirt the lieutenant had worn earlier. The one from Connor’s memory footage, with bright orange and blues scattered over the front panels. Only 80% polyester. An improvement over the carpet.

His processors slowed yet again as he analyzed the fabric, an error message popping up in his HUD, self resolving in 0.1 seconds. Ninety percent of the fibers were damaged, presumably from frequent wear.

Connor found the lieutenant kneeling by the toilet upon reentering the bathroom. The human still wore the dark gray shirt, damp from the impromptu shower that Connor had forced on him. A no-longer-white towel, stained from years of use, lay on the ground beside him, so old that Connor had no reference for it in his database.

That towel was much older than Connor himself, older perhaps than he would ever grow to be.

The lieutenant, finally awake and appropriately interactive, looked not old so much as tired. Very tired. He hid it well beyond his obvious dishevelment. Another human wouldn’t have picked up on the bend in his arms, the slight tremor in his fingers that wrapped around the edge of the sink as he attempted to stand.

Connor handed him the shirt and pants he had selected. The bright colors glowed in the lieutenant’s hand, washing out his skin. Connor wondered how the same man before him had selected that shirt for himself, supposedly from an affinity for the way it appeared.

A human unpredictability. Perhaps the result of the lieutenant wanting to be something he was not, perhaps something else. Connor didn’t know, wasn’t human enough to tell, and wasn’t designed for such a task.

He was, however, designed to analyze humans’ physical states, the lieutenant’s remaining energy drastically sub-normal. The human’s knees gave way as he knelt again beside the toilet to vomit, dropping the shirt on the floor.

“Are you alright, lieutenant?”

“Yeah . . . just give me a few minutes.”

Connor stepped into the hallway, but his current objectives warred with each other. Pursuing the investigate of the new crime scene that night would advance his prime directive, but gaining the lieutenant’s good favor tied intimately to his overall success. 

He knelt to finally run his fingers through the dog’s fur. He had never felt a similar texture before, the light give beneath his touch. The lieutenant’s kitchen contained barely any food besides alcohol and empty pizza boxes. Connor lifted the gun from the floor, noting in which chamber the single bullet resided. The photograph of the lieutenant’s deceased son sat flipped on the table.

Cole. The boy smiled in the picture. 

The lieutenant’s groans filled the house once more, accompanied by running water from the bathroom. Connor’s databases told him that the lieutenant would benefit from remaining home for the night, perhaps with company to prevent any suicidal tendencies.

Connor stepped into the bathroom again once the human’s wretches had died down. The lieutenant’s arms trembled as he leaned himself against the edge of the tub. His eyes glowed blue from the pale of his face.

> **Δ** Go to Eden Club  
>  **Π** Prioritize nutrition **  
> O** Stay home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! All kudos and comments are dear to my heart!
> 
> I'll be updating with the second chapter(s) tomorrow! From then on, I'm planning to update every 3 days. I'm editing as I go, so it might slow down a little towards the end (due to there being more and more chapters to edit each time) but that's the plan! 
> 
> Individual chapters are on the shorter side, but there will be many of them! 
> 
> And remember, don't be afraid to pick any of the choices.  
> -  
> Find me on twitter @cowcatandsilver


End file.
